#20 Pre-Wedding Hug
He can't breathe. Literally can't breathe. All the air is stuck in his lungs, his mouth gaping open.
She's… breathtaking. The most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
She's framed by the doorway, a vision draped in delicate white lace, haloed by the gold flares of the late afternoon sunlight that kiss her hair, her cheeks, make her eyes sparkle. And her stunning smile - brighter than the sun, brighter than the brilliant white of her dress.
"Thought I'm not supposed to see the bride before the wedding?" He croaks when he finally recovers his ability to form words after too long moments where he's incapable of taking his eyes off her, roaming up and down and up again until she blushed, her eyelids lowered in an adorable bout of shyness.
"Since when have we ever been traditional about anything?" She shrugs, sliding further into the room, her dress whispering with every step she takes closer to him.
"Touché." He slides his arm around her waist to tug her against him; can't help but draw her close now that she's here, almost desperate to touch her, hold her – to feel that she is real, that this is truly happening. He's giddy and stunned, almost disbelieving and shout-it-from-the-rooftop-happy all at once because they're getting married. Today. T minus 30 minutes.
Her body is slender in his arms, lithe and warm and familiar, the lace of her dress smooth against his fingertips and he takes this moment of tranquility to hug her tightly to him, soak her in. The tip of her nose nudges his cheek, her lips teasing the line of his jaw and he turns for her, kisses her tenderly. Her lips are supple against his, taste like hope and happiness and forever.
"I've a gift for you," she hums when they pull apart, handing him a small gift box she'd held hidden behind her back.
"Breaking more traditions?" He questions teasingly even though his heart starts pounding viciously at the sight of the slim, rectangular gift box, his stomach flutters with hope and excitement and the lure of possibilities.
"Want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into," she grins, pleased with herself, eyebrow arched and those teeth nipping on her luscious bottom lip in that way she knows drives him crazy.
With shaking fingers he attempts to lift the lid, tissue paper rustling and crackling and she brushes her fingertips across his knuckles, her touch soothing him as he makes contact with his gift hidden inside.
He lifts the wand-like white stick from its bed of pastel yellow tissue paper, stares at the bright, unmistakable pink 'plus' sign.
"I couldn't wait," she admits more quietly, her smile a little nervous, eyelashes fluttering but he hardly hears the words because the blood is roaring in his ears, his grin already stretching so wide across his cheeks that he can feel the strain to his skin.
Best wedding present ever!
"I'm pregnant."